He stood by as Patroclus dressed in Achilles’ own armor, the son of Thetis’ pride preventing him from joining the battleeld and leading him to allow his closest companion to ght in his stead, dressed as him. As Patroclus dressed, a million thoughts ran through Achilles’ head ranging from glory to death, but not once did he imagine stopping what was about to happen, never could he even imagine swallowing his pride and disregarding the vow he’d made while angry. As Patroclus took up his weapons, all but Achilles’ spear which none but he could wield, godlike Achilles ordered his lover to come back. Lead the Argive forces, push back the Trojans, nd honor and glory, but then come back to me at the end. Never did he think that Patroclus would be unable to fulll this last request. Never did he think that this was the end of his Patroclus, his prince. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Patroclus has fallen.” The words spiraled through Achilles’ head as he sat in his tent, mourning. Those three words which had caused his whole world to fall apart, his worst fear to come true, ripped the last bit of hope from his breast and left him with nothing but despair. Patroclus was his everything, Achilles had loved him as much as he loved his own life, and he couldn’t fathom what to do without him. How was he to go on without his prince? Wailing, Achilles tore at his hair as he bent over in grief, trying to feel the same pain on the outside that he was suffering from on the inside. How long he sat like that Achilles didn’t know, until eventually a light touch on his shoulder pulled his attention from the sea of mourning.
“My son, why in tears?” It was the sea-nymph Thetis, daughter of Nereus and mother of swift-footed Achilles. The goddess pulled her son into her arms, cradling his head as if he were a small child.
Achilles groaned, “Patroclus is gone; my dearest friend, my closest companion, the man I love above all others. He has been taken from me and I have lost my will to live.” With this he pulled out of his mother’s arms to bury his face in his hands.
“No!” cried Thetis. She couldn’t bear to lose her son but she could see that he didn’t want to go on without Patroclus, so she proposed another idea. “If this Patroclus is so important to you, why don’t you go and bring him back?”
“Back?” Achilles lifted his head to look at her in confusion. “Back from where?” “From the Underworld of course,” came the response.
Shock flit over Achilles’ features. “No one can bring people back from the Underworld, no one except Hades or Thanatos themselves,” he said, shaking his head.
But Thetis only grinned — a small smile, secret, cunning, the type that says one knows more than they’re letting on. “It’s been done,” she told her son, “Not often and when it happens it’s kept secret, but I was once important to Zeus and he lets things slip sometimes.”
“I can really get him back?” Achilles’ face lit up with hope at his mother’s words, tears springing to his eyes once more at the thought of having his lover with him again.
Thetis nodded, enjoying seeing the life return to her son as he forgot his grief. She continued, “You must take the road that leads to the end of the world and follow it all the way down to the Underworld. There will be many perils and distractions that try and pull you off the path but you must stay focused on your reason for reaching your destination. When you reach the entrance to the Underworld you must cross the River Styx. Now, the river cannot harm you since I dipped you in it as an infant to make you invulnerable, but you still should not try to cross it. There is a ferryman, Charon, who can take you across the river if you have a coin, and then you will reach the gates of Hades. Guarding the gates is a fearsome three-headed dog which they call Cerberus, who is tasked with not letting anyone in unauthorized. But Zeus told me once that Cerberus can be calmed with music, so you must bring a lyre to play for the beast. While he is distracted you can slip by and enter Hades’ kingdom. This is as far as I can advise you; the rest you must do on your own. Enter and nd your Patroclus, then you must make your way out again the same way you got in. And whatever you do, avoid Hades king of the Underworld, or he may not allow you to leave and you’ll be lost forever among the dead.”
Seeing the worry in her eyes as she nished speaking, Achilles comforted Thetis. “Don’t worry mother, I’ll be in and out without Hades even knowing I was there,” he said. “I’ll come back to you.”
“I hope you do,” Thetis replied, gathering her son in her arms once more. She was terried of losing him in the Underworld, but she feared he was lost anyway without his companion. “I cannot help you anymore, I’ll get in trouble with the other gods if they nd out I told you even this much, but should you need me don’t hesitate to call and I will do my best to get to you.”
“Thank you mother,” said Achilles, wrapping his arms around Thetis, “Thank you for what help you’ve given, and thank you for giving me hope for my Patroclus.”
After another minute or two in the embrace, Thetis reluctantly released her son as she warned him, “You should leave as quickly as you can, travel fast and alone and you can be back without the Achaeans realising you’ve even left.”
Achilles stood up as his mother went to leave, her wishing him luck one more time for his journey. Looking out towards Troy, he wished he could pray to the gods for aid on this journey — but not only must he keep this venture secret from the gods, Zeus had also disregarded Achilles’ biggest prayer, letting Patroclus die when Achilles hadn’t been there to protect him. What good were the gods if they didn’t listen, didn’t respond, didn’t save the person who meant most in the world to you? So instead of praying to the gods, Achilles prayed to Patroclus, promising his love that he would be there to save him soon.
After a night of tful sleep, dreaming of reaching towards Patroclus but never quite able to reach him, Achilles woke with the dawn and gathered what he needed for the journey. Clothes, food, coins for the ferryman, his lyre to calm the three-headed dog, all of this and more Achilles packed in his satchel. Then, donning a few pieces of his armor so that he would be protected but not bogged down, he set off from the Myrmidon war camp. Heading away from Troy and the war, he wondered how to nd the road to the end of the world that Thetis had mentioned. But just as he wondered, the air seemed to shimmer and a road appeared in front of him that Achilles swore hadn’t been there a moment ago. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but somehow he just felt like this was the road he needed to take. Achilles guessed it must be some sort of sign from his mother, and began to head down the road.
The way was hard and long, sometimes freezing cold and sometimes burning hot, sometimes plagued with strong winds that tried to drag him off the road, but never, never ending. On and on Achilles walked, holding his reason for walking tight in the front of his mind, ignoring the distractions that tried to keep him from his destination. Patroclus, Patroclus, he reminded himself, blocking out the voices that called his name from just out of sight, the grasping winds that felt like hands reaching for him. Achilles ate when necessary, stopped to rest when he absolutely had to, but always pushed himself back up, kept walking and walking and walking. On and on, no sense of time or space or anything until nally, nally, Achilles reached the end.
When the shape of the River Styx stretched in front of him, Achilles sighed in relief. He knew the journey was far from over, but at least he’d made it through the rst part of it, and now he was at the edge of the Underworld. Approaching the river, it took him a moment to notice the ferry boat sitting a small distance away. Though exhausted, Achilles was renewed by a burst of energy at being so much closer to his destination, so instead of stopping to rest he dug in his satchel for a coin and headed towards the ferry.
“Who’s there?” grumbled the ferryman as Achilles grew near. “You don’t look very dead.”
“Charon, isn’t it?” Achilles said pleasantly, hoping the ferryman would be more inclined to help him if he was polite. “I’m not dead, but I’m here on important business. I need to get across the river to the Underworld.” It wasn’t quite a lie, just not the full truth.
“Can you pay?” Charon eyed him suspiciously.
Achilles held out the coin he’d pulled out earlier, and the ferryman snatched it from him quickly. After inspecting the coin for a moment, Charon grunted in assent and nodded for Achilles to board the ferry. “Thank you, good sir,” Achilles said as he boarded.
The trip across the River Styx was spent in silence and only took a matter of minutes. In no time at all Achilles was disembarking on the far bank and Charon was disappearing back to the other side of the river. Looking ahead, Achilles could see the large black gates of Hades looming in the distance. He sighed at the thought of more walking, but started making his way toward them, reminding himself that he was doing this for Patroclus.
Eventually Achilles reached the shadow of the gates, pausing to rest for a bit now that he was so close to his destination. Without meaning to, he slipped into a light sleep, until he was awoken by a loud growling sound. Jerking back to consciousness, Achilles sprung to his feet and spun around to see the head of a giant dog baring its teeth at him. As he took a cautious step back away from the large fangs, Achilles noticed two more heads, one on either side of the one growling at him. This must be Cerberus, the three-headed dog Thetis had warned him about. Slowly reaching back into his satchel, trying not to alarm the beast, he pulled out the lyre that he had packed. Achilles took another step back as the growl increased in volume, then began to play the lyre softly. When the two heads on the ends began to perk up, their ears twitching in interest, Achilles played a bit louder, then more intensely as he saw the middle head stop growling and lay back its ears. He kept playing, loudly but melodically, until the giant dog lay down with a thump and let its three heads fall to the ground, fast asleep.
Achilles paused when the dog began snoring, then quickly stuffed the lyre back into his satchel and slipped past the heads carefully so as not to wake them. On the other side of where the dog had been standing, he found an entrance through the gates. There were a few shades waiting to be granted entrance, they were standing shocked by Cerberus’ sudden slumber but paid no attention to Achilles as he passed them to enter the domain of Hades, god of the Underworld.
I’m almost there, Patroclus. Achilles could see Hades’ palace far off in the distance, and remembered his mother’s warning to avoid Hades at all costs. From what he could tell, straight ahead in the middle of a lake seemed to be the Isle of the Blest, with the Fields of Punishment to the left, which meant that the area on the right must be the Fields of
Asphodel with the majority of the shades. Thinking that was his best bet for finding Patroclus, Achilles headed towards the Fields of Asphodel.
Right away he knew that it was going to be difcult to nd one specic person in the sea of shades and spirits milling around. Achilles also realised pretty quickly that most of them didn’t seem to remember who they had been in life, which made him worried about the state Patroclus would be in once Achilles found him. Knowing there was nothing he could do about that until he saw Patroclus for himself, the son of Thetis continued on through the crowd of the dead, scanning every face around him for the one he loved.
After a few minutes of searching, Achilles was startled to feel a hand on his arm. He whirled around to see a teenage boy who looked as though he had fallen and grabbed on to Achilles for support. But as the boy looked up after catching his balance, Achilles saw his eyes clear.
“I— I remember,” the boy said, his face a mixture of hopeful confusion turning to awe. “Remember what?” Achilles demanded, not wanting to be rude but hoping to get away from the boy so he could continue looking for Patroclus.
The boy breathed, “Who I was before,” and Achilles froze. If this boy could remember his life, maybe there was hope for Patroclus remembering.
“Who were you?” Achilles asked, more gently than his previous question.
The awe on the teenager’s face turned to sorrow. “My name was Icarus,” he said, and he began to tell his story.
“My father was an inventor, an architect. His name was Daedalus, and he fashioned a labyrinth on the order of King Minos in order that the king could keep captive a beast called the Minotaur. But my father was a good man, and so he ended up helping the king’s daughter Ariadne tell her lover Theseus of a way through the labyrinth to kill the Minotaur. This made King Minos very angry, and since Ariadne and Theseus were gone and he couldn’t punish them, my father was punished instead. He and I were locked in the very labyrinth that he had created, and it was so well devised that even Daedalus himself couldn’t nd a way out. But instead of giving up, my father came up with yet another genius invention: he fashioned wings out of wax and feathers so that we could fly away and escape. I was so excited to fly, so enamored with the sun and the sky and the feeling of freedom, that I did not heed my father’s warnings. He warned me, so many times he warned me not to fly too high, but I didn’t listen. I thought I knew best, I thought I knew what I was doing, but all it led to was the fall. I flew too close to the sun and the wax melted, but you know what I did? As I fell, I laughed. I laughed at how much the feeling of falling felt like flying, the wind rushing by as the ocean grew closer and closer, it was exhilarating. So was it worth the fall for the sun? Yes, yes it was.”
A smile had been growing on Icarus’ face as he spoke of the flight and the fall, but it turned pensive again as he nished. He looked back up at Achilles, realising that his hand was still on the warrior’s arm, and said, “It may have been worth it, but my death caused my father a lot of pain. So be sure to heed any warnings you’ve been given, and don’t let your pride, your hubris, lead you to think that you know best when you don’t.”
“I— Thank you but I think I can figure things out on my own,” Achilles replied, and as Icarus’ hand fell from his arm the young boy’s eyes clouded again, his memory slipping away once more.
Achilles turned away from the spirit, his mind spinning as he tried to gure out why Icarus had been able to remember his previous life but had forgotten again. It seemed that the boy had only remembered while his hand was on Achilles’ arm, but why would that be? Was it because Achilles was still living? Could shades only remember who they were when they were in contact with the living? Achilles shook his head, he’d gure it out when he found Patroclus.
After wandering around the Fields of Asphodel for a while longer, unable to keep track of time in the gloomy atmosphere of the Underworld, Achilles nally caught sight of a familiar face. “Patroclus!” he called out, hope lling his chest as he ran towards his lover. The gure turned at the voice but didn’t seem to recognise the sound of his own name. “Patroclus it’s me, Achilles!” the son of Thetis cried out as he approached, forgetting in his excitement that shades couldn’t remember their lives and so Patroclus didn’t know him in that moment.
“Are you talking to me ?” Patroclus began in confusion before Achilles barrelled into him, pulling the other into a tight hug. He pulled away to see Patroclus’ eyes clear, his memories of who he had been in life returning. “Achilles?” Patroclus said, tears lling his eyes as the memories flooded back.
“Patroclus, my prince,” Achilles replied, cupping his lover’s face as he stared into his eyes, ignoring the confused looks of shades all around them.
“But— What are you doing here?” Patroclus asked, “Are you dead too, my love? Did the Achaeans finally lose their best hero?”
“No, no,” Achilles reassured him, “I’m not dead, I’ve come for you. I’m going to bring you back to the world of the living!”
Patroclus shook his head. “That’s not—”
Achilles cut him off. “It can be done, my mother said it can! She told me how to get here, to the Underworld, she wouldn’t have sent me if she didn’t believe I could succeed.”
Patroclus looked at his lover for a moment before breaking into a smile. “If you say you can do it, then I believe you can. I trust you, Achilles.”
Achilles smiled back, relishing the feel of Patroclus in his arms once more, where he belonged, before suddenly the world around him started to fade. “What’s happening?” he started to say, but Patroclus was gone and Achilles found himself in a large open room, a figure sitting in a throne at the far end.
Not knowing what else to do, he began walking towards the throne, freezing when he realised the deity sitting in it was Hades, king of the Underworld. Achilles groaned, knowing he’d somehow managed to disobey his mother’s one warning. He didn’t know how the god had found out Achilles was there, but he guessed it had been Hades’ doing that had pulled him away from Patroclus. He must be in Hades’ palace at the far edge of the Underworld, and he started casting about for ideas of how to get out of this situation and find Patroclus again.
Before he could think of any sort of solution, Hades began to speak. “Imagine how surprised I was to sense a living soul among the spirits of my realm.” The god saw Achilles stiffen in surprise and laughed. “Yes,” he said, “I can sense souls, that’s how I know whenever a mortal dies. Did you think you could sneak in and out without drawing my attention? Wishful thinking, but I can’t blame you for trying.”
“My Lord Hades,” Achilles said, kneeling as he reached the throne. As with Charon, he thought it best to begin with diplomacy and try to not let his temper get the best of him. After all, this wasn’t simply a Greek commander like Agamemnon he was dealing with, but one of the Olympian Gods.
Hades looked down at him disdainfully. “What are you doing in the Underworld, mortal?”
Thinking fast, Achilles decided to go with the truth. “I’m here to retrieve the soul of someone I’ve lost, bring him back to the world of the living.”
“And what makes you think I’d let you take him? Everyone dies eventually, the dead should stay dead,” said Hades, his tone cold as ice.
“I—” Achilles started, then broke off, unsure of how to convince the god. “Because I love him!” he blurted, then continued angrily, “And you took him away from me unfairly, so I want him back!”
A storm darkened over Hades’ face, and he raised his hand, exclaiming, “Insolence!” A burst of shadowy darkness shot out from the god’s hand and blasted Achilles back, smoking but unable to harm the demigod. When Hades saw Achilles still standing, completely unharmed, his face twisted in shock. “Why did that not kill you like it should have?” the god demanded, furious.
Achilles smirked. “My mother dipped me in the River Styx as an infant, which made me invulnerable. You cannot harm me, Lord Hades,” he boasted triumphantly.
Hades’ eyes narrowed, considering the godlike mortal in front of him with thinly disguised rage. There was a moment of silence before a door flew open behind the godly throne and a radiant woman stepped through.
“What is going on in here?” As she approached, a second throne shimmered into existence beside the one Hades was sitting in, and Achilles recognised her as the goddess Persephone. “Did you try and blast someone again? The servants were cleaning wisps of darkness off the floor for weeks after last time,” the goddess scolded, moving to sit in her throne and completely ignoring Achilles.
“My love,” Hades exclaimed, face softening as he gazed upon his wife. “I was just trying to deal with this insolent mortal who tried to take a spirit out of our realm.”
For the first time Persephone seemed to notice Achilles still kneeling on the ground in front of the thrones. “Oh, who were you trying to save?” she asked him, her voice turning gentle as she inferred why Achilles was in the Underworld.
Achilles cleared his throat, shaken by the sudden appearance of the goddess and confused by her kind tone and the change she’d brought about in the usually harsh demeanor of Hades. He said, “My companion Patroclus, he died pretending to be me which makes his death my fault, I can’t live without him and I want to make it right by giving him another chance.”
Sympathy shone on Persephone’s face as she gazed upon the son of Thetis, then she turned and spoke to her husband in tones too soft for Achilles to hear. Hades’ expression went through a series of emotions; from anger to shock to confusion to resignation, and when the goddess nished speaking she looked at Hades expectantly as he sighed and turned back to look at Achilles.
There was a tense moment where Hades simply glared at the mortal in front of him. “Since you have shown courage and determination in making it this far, all the way to my realm and inside before I caught you,” the lord of the Underworld began, “My wife has convinced me to give you a chance to prove yourself.”
Achilles looked between the two gods, hope flitting across his face as Hades continued, “You have a fifteen minute head start. If you can find the soul you came here for and make your way out of the Underworld without being caught by myself or anyone who works for me, then I will not follow and your soul will be free. However if any of us succeed in stopping you before you cross the River Styx then you fail, and you will never see the one you came here for again until you return to the Underworld as a spirit yourself. ”
“Thank you for this chance,” Achilles said, bowing his head as his mind started spinning with ideas on how to find Patroclus again and get them both to safety.
“I wish you luck,” Persephone said kindly. “I will not hunt you but neither can I give you aid, you must be the one to succeed in this task.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Achilles said to her, then jumped to his feet as Hades declared “Your fifteen minutes starts now. Get out of my throne room.”
Achilles ran toward the exit on the far side of the room and found himself in a hallway, going through many twists and turns until he finally found a large door and ended up outside of the palace. Looking around, he saw a long straight path leading back towards what appeared to be the Fields of Asphodel, just on the opposite side of where he had been before. In order to get out of the Underworld, Achilles would have to get to the Fields of Asphodel and pass all the way through to the other side to get to the gates where he had entered a few hours ago. Only having paused long enough to take in his surroundings and determine the correct way to go, swift-footed Achilles put all the speed he had in running towards the section of the Underworld where he would once more find his Patroclus. After what felt like forever, Achilles finally reached the Fields of Asphodel. He’d run faster than ever in his life, so fast he almost felt like a shooting star, and had to check his speed so that he didn’t run straight into anyone when he reached his first destination. Achilles started making his way through the Fields, moving quickly but also cautiously enough that he could check the faces of each shade around him, looking for his love. Finally he spotted him, remembering this time that he had to be touching Patroclus before the other would remember his life before death.
“Patroclus,” Achilles cried, grabbing his companion’s arm.
Patroclus hesitated for a moment, looking at Achilles without really seeing him, before his eyes cleared. “Achilles, my love!” he exclaimed, then frowned. “You were here before, weren’t you? You were here but then you weren’t.”
“I was here and then I got pulled away, I’m sorry,” Achilles said hurriedly. He began to move through the crowd of spirits, pulling Patroclus with him as he continued
speaking. “I don’t have much time, I don’t know how much time has already passed, but we need to go.”
“Go? Go where?” Patroclus gripped Achilles’ elbow so as to not get separated due to the fast pace at which the son of Thetis was walking. “Achilles I need you to explain what’s going on. You said you were going to get me out, what happened?”
“I made a deal with Hades,” came the reply. As Patroclus’ face twisted in shock and confusion Achilles amended, “Well, he’s giving me a test. If we can make it across the River Styx without getting caught, you’re free. I had a fifteen minute head start but at least ten minutes must have passed by now which means we don’t have much time before they come after us.”
“They? Who’s they, you only mentioned Hades,” Patroclus asked, but he began to walk faster as the urgency of the situation settled over him.
Achilles spared his lover a glance as they continued to make their way through the Fields of Asphodel. “Hades as well as anyone who works for him will be trying to catch us.” He saw Patroclus’ face whiten and continued, “It’s not much of a chance but it’s the only chance we have.”
“And what happens if we get caught?” Patroclus didn’t want to hear the answer but he had to ask anyway.
“You’ll stay here forever, and we’ll never see each other again. Even once I die myself and return as a shade neither of us will have our memories,” Achilles said somberly. He didn’t want to think of such a possibility but knew there was a likely chance it would turn out that way.
“And you?”
Achilles pondered the question for a moment. “If I’m captured then I will likely also be stuck here, dead before my time.” His words hung heavy in the air between them.
Patroclus was silent the rest of the way through the Fields, processing everything Achilles had said while the son of Thetis led them through the crowd of shades. After what felt like far too long, they nally reached the edge of the Fields of Asphodel and managed to escape the large concentration of spirits. Directly ahead of them were the gates of Hades which Achilles had passed through on his way in, but when he looked back the warrior could see a black cloud leaving Hades’ palace which could only be the god himself coming after them.
As they approached the gates, Patroclus turned to Achilles in alarm. “You said all of Hades’ minions will be after us, yes? The three-headed dog who guards the gates is one of those, how will we get past it?”
“Don’t worry, my prince,” even in such a dire situation Achilles managed a reassuring smile as he pulled his lyre out of the satchel that he’d somehow managed not to lose throughout this whole adventure. Ignoring Patroclus’ confused look, Achilles began to play the instrument well before Cerberus even came into view, not wanting a repeat experience of being so close to the dog’s fangs.
When they reached the entrance through the gates, Cerberus was mercifully already calmed by the music, laying on the ground somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Patroclus gripped Achilles’ arm tighter as they skirted around the large dog, but the creature didn’t stir and they made it past safely. On the other side, as soon as they were far enough from the gates that Cerberus wouldn’t follow, Achilles dropped the lyre as Patroclus stopped and bent over, out of breath from having run the distance between the Fields of Asphodel and the gates of Hades.
“Do you need to rest, my dear Patroclus?” Concern laced Achilles’ voice as he gazed worriedly at his companion. Though Achilles was perfectly fine, Patroclus looked as though he might collapse at any moment.
However Patroclus shook his head at Achilles’ question. “We don’t have time to rest, your headstart is long over and we’re surely being pursued.” When Achilles didn’t look reassured Patroclus continued, “I’ll be ne, my love. I can rest once we’re free, and safe.”
At this Achilles nodded, and the two began to cross the distance between the gates of Hades and the River Styx. Yet when Patroclus stopped only a few yards later to catch his breath again, Achilles insisted on pausing to rest. “If we go any further you’ll collapse. We can afford to stop because we’re almost there, look, I can see the ferryman on the river. A few minutes of rest and then we’ll continue, and we can be happy together forever.” Patroclus acquiesced, worried about having time to stop but too exhausted to continue without a rest. They sank down on the ground, Patroclus reclining with his head resting on Achilles lap, the latter seated and digging through his satchel for food. “Do spirits eat?” Achilles wondered, pulling out a piece of bread. Patroclus simply reached for the bread and grabbed it from his lover’s hand, stufng the whole thing in his mouth at once. “I guess that answers my question,” Achilles said, an amused smile spreading over his face. He wished he could just stay there in that one moment forever, reunited with his lover, enjoying a moment of rest and companionship while temporarily forgetting the dangers around them.
The moment didn’t last, however, as three winged creatures suddenly appeared above the gates, flying out from Hades’ realm towards where the two were resting. “Furies!” Achilles shouted, jumping to his feet and pulling Patroclus up with him.
The terrifying women swooped down towards the two, following the orders of Lord Hades in stopping the spirit of Patroclus from leaving the Underworld. Achilles ran as fast as he could towards the River Styx, his eyes xed on the ferry that was getting closer and closer. But Patroclus couldn’t keep up with swift-footed Achilles, and though he held on to his lover’s arm he felt himself lagging behind, holding them back.
Though Achilles was fast, the Furies were faster. Right as the two reached the edge of the river, as Achilles fumbled to hand over a coin to Charon and stepped onto the ferry, he felt Patroclus’ hand slip out of his grip. Spinning around, he was met with the sight of Patroclus dangling in the air, each arm and his head held by a Fury as he screamed Achilles’ name. The son of Thetis didn’t hesitate, but leaped up to grab ahold of Patroclus’ leg as the creatures went to fly away, and was pulled along with them.
“Achilles, it’s pointless,” Patroclus cried out over the wind. “We’ve been caught, you have to let go or you’ll be stuck here in the Underworld too.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Achilles said as he held on tightly. “I came here to rescue you and I’m not going back without you.”
Patroclus shook his head. “I won’t be the cause of you ending up here before your time; you need to let go, my beautiful Achilles. Return to the world above and help our people win the war against the Trojans.”
“No!” Achilles cried, his eyes filling with tears as he said the thing that had been sitting in his heart since Patroclus’ death, “It’s all my fault. It’s my fault you died, I let you go into battle dressed as me because I couldn’t let go of my pride. I lost you then and I won’t lose you again.”
“It’s not your fault, my love, and I’d never blame you,” said Patroclus as tears stained his own cheeks. “But I’m not dragging you down with me.” With this he kicked his leg until Achilles lost his grip, knowing that his lover wouldn’t be injured from the fall due to his invulnerability. Achilles screamed in desperation as he plummeted toward the ground, watching the one he loved get dragged back over the gates of Hades and into the Underworld, held in the grip of the winged Furies. When he hit the ground, Achilles curled into himself and wailed, the sound encompassing all of his sorrow and rage and grief and hopelessness. The whole point of this journey had been to rescue Patroclus, to save the one he loved and bring him back to the world of the living, and he’d failed. He, Achilles, the great warrior, best of the Greeks, had failed to do this one important task. And it was all his fault. He’d been the one to suggest taking a rest, Patroclus had warned him that they didn’t have time but he hadn’t listened. He’d been overcondent, thinking that because they were almost safe he could afford to take the risk, but just like Icarus his pride had led to his fall. And now he was right back where he’d started, without his Patroclus. Achilles considered just laying down and waiting to die. He was already on the edge of the Underworld; he knew Patroclus wanted him to live but Patroclus wouldn’t even remember him if their shades ran into each other. Achilles wouldn’t remember either, and that was such a tempting thought. Lie down, go to sleep, escape this pain and forget this sorrow. But then Achilles thought of his mother. Thetis, up in the world of the living, waiting desperately for her son to return to her safely. He knew that his death would break Thetis, especially if he died down here with no one to even tell her what had happened. And then there was the war. Patroclus was right that they needed him, no one but Achilles could defeat Hector. Hector. Though Achilles knew it was his own fault that he’d lost Patroclus, not once but twice, he wasn’t the only one responsible. Hector had been the one to kill his prince, his love, his Patroclus. Hector was to blame. So Achilles rose up from the ground and began the walk back toward the River Styx and the ferryman, determined to return to Troy and kill Hector for what he’d done, determined to avenge Patroclus and try to escape his own self-loathing in the process.
About the Author: Rose is a senior studying Classical Culture and Society at Bryn Mawr. She loves to read and is obsessed with ancient mythology and modern fantasy. She very much enjoys being a Classics major and hopes to continue interacting with the ancient world even after graduation this spring.
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